Little Red Hen
by Aisling-Siobhan
Summary: FG/HP AU. Harry wants to dress up for Halloween, and Fenrir only agrees if the Big Bad Wolf is allowed to ravish ‘innocent Little Red’. Harry gets the wrong end of the stick, but Fenrir still gets what he wants.


New one shot

New one shot. Really shouldn't have, but I did, and I hope you all enjoy and appreciate it.

"Little Red Hen"

**Disclaimer: ** Harry Potter, et all are property of JK Rowling, and Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros and all those other nifty people that make it so we can read and watch the Potterverse whenever we feel like it. I make no money from this, just so you know.

**Summary: ** [FG/HP] AU. In a world where Harry is the Dark Lord and Fenrir the werewolf Alpha, Harry wants to dress up for Halloween, and Fenrir only agrees if the Big Bad Wolf is allowed to ravish 'innocent Little Red'. Harry gets the wrong end of the stick, but Fenrir still gets what he wants.

**Warnings: **Slash. FG/HP. Werewolf Harry. Very AU. Language. Character Death.

**Rating: ** T/R

**A/N: **This is just some fun for Halloween… even though I have an assignment due in a week and I haven't started yet… should probably do that instead.

_XXX_

**Words: **4,191

**Chapter 1**

**Little Red Hen**

If one thought back on it, they would have to conclude that it all started on a dark night, on the Halloween of 1981. If wouldn't have been in anyway a special day, except for one thing. That was the night the Dark Lord Voldemort appeared at Godric's Hollow and attempted to murder the Potter family.

Every Wizarding child worth their salt knew all about Harry Potter. In fact, they knew more about him than he did himself! Harry had done the unthinkable. When Lord Voldemort had cast the 'Avada Kedavra' curse on him, he had _survived_. Shockingly, unbelievably, he had survived. Harry was orphaned of course, and sent to live with his only living relatives left.

Petunia had been his mother's sister, and Harry had gone to live with her, her husband and their son. The Dursley family prided themselves on being normal. They knew about Lily Potter's magic, but they pretended it didn't exist. Even after Harry had been sent to live with them, they acted like he wasn't there, like he didn't exist and by proxy his magic wasn't real either.

It wasn't until the Halloween on 1989 that Harry Potter knew he was a Wizard. It would later be regarded by the majority of the Wizarding world as an accident, a grievous mistake, a social faux pas, but at least no one pretended it wasn't happening. Harry had spent most of the day gardening for his aunt, and washing his uncle's car. When the sun began to set and the full moon began to rise, the three Dursleys left the house with Dudley dress like a giant pumpkin, all prepared for a night of trick-or-treating. Accidentally on purpose, they had locked Harry out of the house.

It had taken Harry an hour to work up the courage to wander towards Mrs. Figg's house on his own. On the way there, some of Dudley's friends had spotted him, and ignoring the terror at being alone at night, alone, he had ran away from the other children. He had ended up panting in the nearest park, the edges of which bordered on a small little forest that most people avoided despite how pleasant it looked. And well they might avoid it. For in the forest, as small as it was, lived an even smaller pack of Werewolves.

After the defeat of the Dark Lord, Fenrir Greyback's pack had been rounded up and most of them had been killed. He had managed to escape and save a handful of others, but it was a pittance in consideration of how many he had at his disposal to begin with. Half of him was angry with the boy, Harry, who had caused it all, and another part of him had secretly hoped to one-day turn the boy. Having someone that powerful, who would one day be influential, considering his fame _at this age_ let alone in the future, as a part of his pack would be considered quite a coup.

Fenrir had been pacing the edge of the woods, the large silver wolf at the head of his pack; the others lay behind him in a semi-circle. His tail suddenly sprang up, wagging side to side and he snarled lowly, eyes narrowing. There was a child in his territory!

A Wizard child; he could smell the magic from across the park.

An invader.

Danger.

He bared his teeth. Slowly he loped forward, out from between the trees and towards the shivering child. The boy was small, smaller than he should have been Fenrir considered based on how powerful he smelt. The thought only crossed his mind briefly, a mere fluttering of an idea, settling on his brain like a butterfly before taking wing again. What if he were to turn this Wizard? Such a powerful child could come in handy, with the right motivation and guidance.

He wondered where the boy's parents were. Who would have left the child out so late, alone, on a full moon; surely no Wizard would be so foolish.

Unless it was a test.

Fenrir froze. A second later he took two hurried steps backwards, hiding himself in the shadows. What if there was a Ministry official waiting out there? Using the child as bait to lure Fenrir and his pack to them? The silver wolf turned back to look at the rest of the wolves, still hidden, still wary. A good Alpha always put his pack first. Fenrir was about to go back to them, to ignore the delicious child before him, but then Harry turned around.

Bright green eyes locked onto Fenrir's silver gaze, and they widened. But with wonder, not fear. Harry came towards him, his hand outstretched warily, shaking just a little bit, but he was obviously a brave child, or very foolish. Fenrir assumed he must not have been raised by magical folk in either case, and that made up his mind about the Ministry. There was no test, no lure, no trap and no officials waiting to catch him. But that wasn't why he bit Harry.

He noticed the lightening bolt scar on the child's forehead, but that wasn't the reason he turned Harry either.

Harry Potter had the sweetest, most delectable scent Fenrir had ever had the pleasure of catching. He sniffed, taking the scent in fully, deeply, allowing every part of him to bask in the glorious smell. And then he pounced. Harry let out a shrill cry, before his hands clamped over his mouth. Years of physical abuse at the hands of his uncle had taught him to accept his punishment and never cry out. If he cried out, they'd punish him more. He wished he were able to berate himself mentally for approaching a wild animal. In his dreams, he had imagined something similar, but he had always called the wolf 'Mooney', and 'Mooney' would lick him and cuddle him, but he had never attacked the child.

He was paralysed by fear; eyes wide and his legs were like jelly. His mind was completely blank. An easel, without words or colour or pictures. There was nothing but fear, and the fleeting, timid thought: 'will it hurt?'

When Harry woke next, he was lying on the ground, surrounded by four naked men and two naked women. As he tried to sit up, to scramble out from between arms and legs, a hand fell on to his shoulder and he tensed up. "Are you sore?"

The voice was rough, but the words were meant to be gentle and soothing. Harry relaxed almost instantly, but he didn't understand why. He turned to face the man behind him, someone he hadn't noticed or accounted for, and was shocked to find a pair of familiar silver eyes watching him with curiosity and a little worry. This man – wolf, man, wolf? – had been the one to bite him. How was that possible?

"What are you?"

The sound of Harry's voice, timid and shy and so soft like silk, pulled the others from their rest. They hesitantly moved closer to the Alpha and away from the cub. They gazed around at each other, before all their eyes fell onto the child. They waited for his to shout and cry and scream as they had all done long ago, but he merely sat there, waiting for something.

"A werewolf." Fenrir said at last, pulling his long white hair into a ponytail.

"No you aren't." Harry said simply, and frowned at the adult who had lied to him. This wasn't his uncle. Harry felt he didn't have to be afraid of this man. Wolf?

"Yes I am, and you are my mate, Harry."

Harry's eyebrows drew together. Fenrir was smiling down at him, and the others in the pack let out startled gasps. "No you aren't. Werewolves are magical, and magic doesn't exist." Motorbikes can't fly; teachers' hair does not turn blue spontaneously; people can't talk to snakes; you couldn't pull a rabbit out of a hat; no one who watched Dr. Sues was normal; Harry was a freak but he wasn't magical: each of these had been screamed at Harry at one point or another in his short life by his neglectful uncle, Vernon.

"Is that so?" Fenrir said softly, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

It took the entire pack almost three months, despite the changes on the full moon in between, to convince Harry that magic existed. Oh he believed in werewolves now; he had turned into one quite a number of times, but he still had trouble believe he was a Wizard, and a powerful one at that.

Him, powerful or important? It was ludicrous. Rich and famous? Never.

Harry was with the pack for a little under two years when the next startling event in his life occurred. They had moved to another forest, Epping Forest to be particular, and they were happy and safe there. The pack had grown by one since Harry had joined it. A small child had been found, half dead, by the road on their journey to Epping and one of the female wolves had insisted on keeping him.

Quite out of the blue one-day, when 11-year-old Harry was playing with 5-year-old Adam, an owl appeared and dropped a letter right into Harry's lap. The owl had hovered close by, flapping its wings impatiently until Harry picked up the letter, and then it flew over to a tree and settled down to wait.

Mr. Harry James Potter

Epping Forest

England

"_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_You are cordially invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcra-_" And that was as far as Harry got before Fenrir ripped the letter out of his hands.

"Fenrir!" He whined, reaching up to get the letter. But even standing on his tiptoes, Harry was far shorter than the Alpha wolf. Fenrir leered down at him, placed a quick kiss on his head and read the letter himself.

When he was finished, he let out a snarl. "No." He said furiously. "I am not sending you to them. I will not."

"Send me away?" Harry's voice trembled slightly, and he took a step backwards. "Did I do something wrong?" Two years of being loved by the pack did not do much to dispel the years of being unwanted and resented by the Dursleys (all of which wound up horribly mutilated around the time Harry disappeared from Privet Drive).

"No, cub. I'd never send you away." He pulled the child against him. Despite looking scary, and being vicious and cruel in battle, he did care for his own, and he was particularly good to his mate. So far he had been able to keep his urges in check, but once Harry started to go through puberty it wasn't going to be as easy to avoid mating with him. Perhaps he should go to Hogwarts then? He'd be safe from Fenrir's lust for nine months of the year – but would Harry be safe from the Wizards?

The owl flew away an hour later with a letter of acceptance.

Surprisingly, Harry became very good friends with Draco Malfoy. The boy's father used to be Voldemort's right hand man, and that pleased Fenrir greatly. So far, Harry's friends and political alliances (not that Harry knew he was doing such) were going pleasantly. Blaise Zabini, a neutral Wizard from Italy, and Cedric Diggory, a light sided Hufflepuff, were Harry's other friends. Fenrir wasn't too impressed with Diggory, but he supposed he didn't want Harry to turn into a complete heartless snake.

It was shocking the boy had ended up in Gryffindor, but he had managed to retain the friendship made on the train with Draco and Zabini even after the sorting. The Weasley twins often came to Harry's aid, lending him items that he had 'misplaced' and pranking anyone who attacked or bothered him.

Diggory was the only one who knew Harry was a werewolf. That was really how their friendship started.

Headmaster Dumbledore had arranged to keep Harry in the Shrieking Shack (a place that had been used years ago to cage another werewolf), and they had been on their way there when Diggory spotted them. The blond had known there was something strange about Harry the moment he first laid eyes on the nervous first year, but the snarls and howls coming from inside the Shack once Dumbledore left were worrying. Despite being known as 'yellow and black bellied', Cedric went into the Shack.

A small, beautiful black wolf was staring straight at him when he left the tunnel. Cedric's first thought was to run, but Harry had just looked at him, his head cocked sadly to the side and Cedric had immediately felt guilty for wanting to abandon the poor child.

"Hello. Harry, isn't it?" The werewolf had nodded. At the feet of the wolf, on the ground, was a golden goblet. It was empty, but tendrils of steam were slowly rising from the cup. "How are you?"

Fenrir was perfectly capable of controlling the actions of his pack during the moon. As Alpha he didn't lose his mind as much as the others did. He was able to keep control over himself and thereby control the others as well, but with Harry so far away from him there was no choice but for Dumbledore to give him the Wolfsbane Potion. Fenrir had been outraged at first; but it was either that, or risk the Ministry kidnapping the cub from him.

The wolf had licked Cedric's outstretched hand, and since then, every time the full moon rose the Hufflepuff snuck out of the castle to keep the little black wolf company.

Nothing major happened to Harry until fourth year. It was the Quidditch World Cup, and unfortunately no one had thought to warn Harry or the Ministry officials about the fact that certain warding spells were harmful to Werewolves. Harry had gone with Cedric (whose parents knew about Harry's condition) but as they passed the groundskeeper, Harry had remained frozen in place, whimpering slightly.

"Come on Harry!" Cedric called.

Harry took a step forward and he hissed as he felt a searing pain travel along his arms. He reached out in front of him and cried out, as the pain got worse. It was like touching an invisible electric fence. Before anything could be said, a team of Aurors apparated in front of him, Obliviated the Muggle, and began sending curse after curse at him.

The Diggorys had been furious, so had Draco when he found out (who also knew) and Harry had spent the world cup match being refused treatment from St. Mungos. In the end he had been sent to Hogwarts early to be healed, and then wasn't allowed to go back to Fenrir until June.

Unfortunately, in June, Harry was kidnapped straight out of Hogwarts. Tied to a gravestone, he watched with wide eyes as a man cut his arm and threw something grotesque in shape and size into a large black cauldron. Out of which rose Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort had summoned his Death Eaters, and despite Lucius' protests at Harry's treatment, the Wizard was still content to torture the child. It was really the sight of Cedric, who had been accidentally portkeyed with him, tied up and scared that made up his mind. He struggled and screamed, and as Cedric was tortured the blond screamed with him.

Harry focused on his magic, focused on Fenrir, and on his inner wolf. As his body shifted, forcing the wolf to the surface before the moon called to it, the ropes shifted around him, falling to the ground and freeing him. The black wolf, larger than the first time Cedric had seen it, growled at Voldemort. None of the Death Eaters were brave enough to bring a _werewolf's_ attention on themselves, even to protect their Lord.

Fenrir, who used to be a Wizard, had side-apparated his Beta to the graveyard. Remus Lupin had joined the pack the year before, when Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. He and Fenrir snarled at the Death Eaters; Lucius surrendered first, no doubt not wanting to risk harming his son's close friend. While Malfoys held no love for werewolves, this particular Malfoy loved his son very much, and knew his son was inordinately fond of this particular werewolf.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted.

The light sped towards the black wolf, but a flash of yellow and black hovered before him for a moment, before everything was bathed in green. The wolf looked down on Cedric; his friend, his pack mate, and he howled. He launched himself at Voldemort. He bit, and he clawed and chewed, and swallowed, and scratched, snarled and howled, and when Fenrir finally managed to drag him away there wasn't much left of Voldemort to pity.

It wasn't the end of the Dark Lord, of course not, just his body. But Harry happily helped Dumbledore find and destroy all of the Horcruxes. Then, he gathered the Death Eaters to him, as well as the other werewolf packs, of which Fenrir took control, and together they brought down Dumbledore.

It hadn't taken too long for the normal people to fall in line. Lucius Malfoy took on the mantle of Minister, and he was a good one. Overly conniving and smarmy, but a brilliant politician and a decent Wizard. Within two years, all of the changed had taken place and Harry Potter; saviour, werewolf, defeater of Voldemort, and now the youngest Dictator ever, experienced the next amazing experience of his life.

He was finally old enough to mate.

It had been awkward at first.

Since he was nine, Harry had been around Fenrir during the moons, full or otherwise, and mostly Fenrir was naked. He was used to seeing the other man undressed, but he had always been mostly clothed. Mainly because of his age, and then later while he was at school. The sixteen year old had no experience, but he had heard others talk. Sex was supposed to hurt the first time, but Harry believed his Alpha incapable of hurting him. And anyway, what could hurt more than watching Cedric die, or changing into a wolf against your will?

It didn't take long for Fenrir to lose whatever tangible hold on his patience he had. The next thing Harry knew, his clothes were gone, and he was being thrown onto the bed in his private rooms at Hogwarts.

A lot had changed since Lucius became Minister. Technically, Harry was in charge. They were Harry's ideas, and Lucius just found legal ways to implement them and enforce them. Fenrir kept control over the magical creatures that were considered 'dangerous' to Wizards, and in return Harry had Lucius overturn most of the legislation that was detrimental to those creatures. Fenrir now lived in the Headmasters rooms, along with Harry, who was still a Gryffindor student (and equally as despised by Snape as ever).

The sex had been amazing. In comparison to some of the things he had experienced, Harry hadn't thought the initial penetration to be particularly painful, but then again Fenrir had been meticulous in his preparation of his smaller mate. Harry had seen stars. They had exploded behind his eyelids as Fenrir's cock nudged a spot inside of him, they flew across his skin and nerves and Fenrir's fingers generally preceded them. Every time Fenrir's lips touched his own, Fenrir's tongue stroked his own, Harry could _taste_ Heaven. The stars, and moon, and sky were all inside of the Alpha and whenever they met, Harry could glimpse just a little bit of the galaxy – something infinite and bigger than him, but beautiful and wanted; he had no doubt Fenrir would move mountains to give it to him if it were possible. But Harry could settle for tasting it, glimpsing it, with every touch and kiss and look, Fenrir took Harry out of this world.

As much fun as reminiscing about the past is, the point of this story is in the now. Now, it was Halloween 1987, and Harry was a few months past his seventeenth birthday and another handful of months before his NEWTs and Graduation. Despite being the ruler of Britain, Scotland and Wales, he was first and foremost a student.

Minerva McGonagall had been promoted to Headmistress, though she kept her old lodgings. She had, after considerate badgering from Harry, agreed to throw a Halloween party, with fancy dress and prizes for the best dressed. Harry had been overjoyed, but now he faced the daunting task of convincing his other half to dress up as well.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard as he had feared it might be.

Fenrir had leered at him. "Only if I get to be the Big Bad Wolf."

"Ok." Harry had frowned. "Then what shall I go as?"

Fenrir's smirk stretched even further, and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips as he entertained a handful of naughty images in his mind. "What fun would it be, if the Big Bad didn't get to ravish innocent Little Red?" Just thinking about Harry in a red dress and white stockings was enough to make him hard. He couldn't wait till he actually saw Harry in the outfit – and then out of it.

"Ok. I'll be Red and you're the Wolf." Harry beamed at him. "This will be so much fun!" He promised.

He had convinced the house elves to help make the costumes, and some of the elder students had agreed to help as well. Many of the Muggleborns, (the ones magically powerful enough to still be allowed to attend Hogwarts), got permission to go to Muggle London on a Hogsmeade weekend, and came back with loads of costumes, which they then went on to sell to some of the others.

Draco of course had thought the entire thing utterly plebeian, until Harry pointed out that he could make his tailor create him an original costume. Draco took the opportunity to show off, and decided he would go in something befitting a King. He even wore a crown.

Blaise had taken it in stride, and with many a giggle, he had appeared in the Great Hall as a… playboy bunny? Though, Fenrir had to admit the boy looked good enough to eat, though he didn't look much like a rabbit.

Fenrir stood at the Head table, surrounded by teachers, all of which, bar Snape were dressed up. He had allowed his body to become caught in a partial change so his hands were hairier than normal, and his fingers curled inwards, his nails were more like claws and his feet were the same. He was barefoot and bare chested, and his trousers had seen better days, but many of the Muggleborns had told him he looked like the kid out of "**An American Werewolf In London**"; whoever that was.

His lips pulled back, his fangs flashing as the doors of the Great Hall opened. Fenrir could smell Harry behind the doors, and he waited anxiously to see the boy all dressed up. Harry had hidden the costume from him, and protected the secret from the rest of the school viciously. All anyone knew was that Harry was going as 'little Red' to Fenrir's wolf. Silver eyes widened, his breath caught—

And then a Hen walked through the door.

Not an actual hen, mind you, but Harry was dressed as a hen. He had a crown of feathers on his head, and the colons ranged from brown, to gold, to green to red. He was wearing a fat suit, and as he waddled into the Hall everyone turned to stare at him. Some of them giggled, but it wasn't malicious so Harry let it slide. The suit was decorated with the same coloured feathers as the crown, and he wore orange leggings and a pair of slippers that honestly did look like bird feet.

The boy grinned as caught Fenrir's eyes. The Alpha thought he might faint.

"What is this?" He growled. He had been so looking forward to seeing his innocent mate dressed in that provocative little red dress he had been imagining.

"You told me to go as Little Red Hen." Fenrir blinked at him. "You know, from the Muggle nursery rhyme about eggs? During the second World War?" Fenrir blinked at him again, and Harry's cheeks turned a faint pink.

"I meant Little Red Riding Hood." He said at last. He looked shocked, Snape looked extremely amused, and Harry looked embarrassed. "How am I meant to ravish a hen?" That comment made Snape look away finally, along with most of the students; their cheeks all pink.

Harry gave a grin, that was entirely too evil was such a cute looking boy. His eyes sparkled and he tilted his head to the side innocently. Fenrir looked at his curiously, licking his lips at the sight of the young wolf.

"I don't know." Harry drawled, his voice low and sultry, and not at all innocent. His fingers played with the feathers of the suit, just above his crotch, and he spoke again, "but you could always eat me up?"

**The End**

Didn't turn out the way I planned it to, but I like it none the less. I'll leave the ending to your imagination. Do review. It is the reason I write after all.


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